Traitor
by Troublesque
Summary: His late night activities are swimming around in his mind: making him second guess himself. He knows the wrongs he's done. He knows the consequences of his actions. But the real struggle: how he's going to deal with the reality. Will he survive the pain?


**Title: **Traitor

**Pairing(s):** ((Implied)) Jaegerjaquez Grimmjow x Kurosaki Ichigo

**Author:** Zev

**Rating:** T for the implied activities. Not intended for any young minds.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The picture is not mine either.

**Word Count:** 1,000

**Notes: **There was a picture I found on photobucket...and for some reason I just felt in the dumps and so I decided to throw this piece out when I saw the picture. Short drabble.

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It was _wrong_.

The way his hazel eyes betrayed his true feelings if anyone looked too close. He didn't miss the way his friends followed his gaze every time he found himself face to face with the enemy. He was also aware of the fact that his best friend knew he intentionally missed any vital spots. How he absolutely hated to be paired with _that _man, but found that if he wasn't, he was constantly looking around to find out where he had gone. Was he ok? Was he hurt, injured, or bleeding somewhere? Was he…dead?

It was _inexcusable._

The way he deceived his so-called 'friends': lying that he was always busy with more important matters. Of course every single one of them knew where he disappeared to, and some had a pretty good sense of what he was doing. He saw the hurt reflected in their eyes as he brushed them off. They could never say he didn't do his duty as a representative Soul Reaper: after he returned he often went on a rampage with defeating Hollows. He found that the more he lied, the easier it was to say it. Like a second nature.

It was _devastating._

The way his friend approached him loud and obnoxious: not his typically calm and controlled state. The skinny male had grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the classroom and up to the roof of the school. Outraged that he had seen the enemy take him from his house without so much as a fight. He wondered why the Quincy had been watching his house in the middle of the night but that had only provoked more anger from the man.

It was _disgusting_.

The way he just let things happened one after another. How in the middle of the night he would sneak out of his house and head down to the riverside, his heart thumping in his chest as he saw that tall figure shrouded in moonlight waiting for him. All of those nights spent in the throes of passion and lust. The desperate ways he clung to the pale skin as their sweaty bodies mingled until the wee hours of the morning. The loving embrace he was held in after it was over…

It was _temporary._

The way the older male tossed him back on the bank of the river every night: like he was a piece of trash. It twisted his insides at the look of detachment burning in those eyes. He usually wound up at home, alone, on his bed, trying to convince himself it would eventually end. Sooner than later he hoped. But whenever he skipped a night from the usual meeting place he'd wind up with a very pissed of male in his window, literally dragging him out of his house and into the night.

It was _difficult._

The way everything was so silent after it was over. The constant rays of bright moonlight slipped through the white bars of the window, illuminating the resting spot of himself and the body next to him. Every night he sat up, his head in his hands as the guilt and sorrow washed over his body; the evidence of claws raking down his back still fresh from their earlier activities. How did he get so into the mess he was in?

It was _final._

The way he disappeared without a trace: his family, friends, and pastime forgotten. He just left without any warning. Wishing he could erase himself from every one of their memories, feeling unfit to have shared any of those good times; even the bad ones with them. Did he know where he was going? Not a clue. But as long as he could escape, that was the plan. He was tired of the pain and the constant reminder of his betrayal. He could never face them again. So he left.

It was _necessary._

It was _hard._

It was _painful._

The way they might all eventually forget about him. But that didn't matter. As long as he still held them close to his heart: even if all he had left was a tiny piece. He kept walking forward, as the sun rose and fell behind the horizon, never stopping. The tears, always fresh, on his face as they silently slid from his eyes down his face. He moved on.

It was _over._

* * *

**A/N: **So, yeah, it's kind of dark. I'm the kinda chick that likes her happy endings--but I told myself that I had to create at least _one_ agnst based fic. ((But I didn't limit myself on how long it had to be!!))

Do people review for this stuff? Even if it's dark?

Don't get me wrong, I love reviews. But I understand if this doesn't get any. I'll be satisfied with the number of hits.

-cough-

Review anyways.


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